


together, at least

by shortcircuitify



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Escape, F/M, Post-Canon, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 19:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortcircuitify/pseuds/shortcircuitify
Summary: “We’ll go to Tevinter,” her lips waver over the words.





	together, at least

After Kirkwall is nothing but pieces of stone and shattered glass, Bethany stays behind. She does not stay for long, just long enough to see Cullen’s withered expression, the downturned faces of those she met in the Circle and Chantry, Meredith’s crystallized form still looming over them all.

The silence is deafening, her feet tip-tapping against Kirkwall’s cold stone, no Templars to shadow her every step. The weight of her staff is heavy against her back, her hands absently rubbing against the small bump of her stomach through her singed robes.

She hums to herself, trying to pass the time, as she walks through the death and destruction surrounding her. Her sister insisted she stay with her, make sure Bethany wouldn’t get into any trouble. But she refused – knew the older Hawke wouldn’t understand, didn’t want to.

His form is easy to find, his long hair falling around his hidden face, red staining the feathers where dagger pierced skin. She kneels before him, flicks the hair away from his face and cups his cheek. His face is serene, no harsh lines around his mouth or brow, no worries or sorrow. She thinks she has never seen him so peaceful.

The cut is not fatal, Bethany can see. Hawke knew too, and she smiles sadly, magick flickering in her hands and flowing into the wound, already crusting over. Soon, there is nothing left but the copper stain of blood, no wound to accompany it.

She sits and waits, soothing the muscles under her hands until the moon hangs heavy in the sky, its milky eye watching over them. She wonders, perhaps, if he would have preferred it this way, this was his plan all along. Her heart beats sickly at the thought, and she instinctively puts her hand against her womb. She cleans his face patiently instead, remembers those early days in Kirkwall, where she helped in his clinic. His hands against her waist, fumbling in the dark, the way he stared at her like he couldn’t believe she was real, beneath him, warm.

It is slow at first, but soon his eyelids flutter, his mouth and jaw working as his nose breaths in the smoky air. She breaths a small sigh of relief, a melancholy smile gracing her delicate lips.

His eyes open – honey and ale – and she cannot feel the usual blue, taunt pull under his gaze. He is dazed, and she hugs him tightly, her eyes burning with unshed tears, smoke and ash.

He does not question, holds her close, suffocating her, breathing her name into her hair like a prayer. He finds the skin of her jaw, her cheek, and kisses her.

“I don’t remember – and yet I think I do,” he whispers.

“What do you remember?”

“You – this,” he waves his hand out before him, still hazy, eyes cloudy.

She curls herself up in his lap, eyes bright – he is drawn to her, just like before, just like he always is. He cups her thigh, pulls her closer against him, and she can feel the rapid beating of his heart – the fear and the guilt and the pain.

“You’re not hurt?” he whispers into her hair.

“We’ll go to Tevinter,” her lips waver over the words.

His brows furrow, remembering, and a moment later “You hate Tevinter.”

Her smile does not reach her eyes, “But we’ll be together. We’ll be okay.” She won’t be. Not really. She thinks of Varric and her sister and Sebastien and -

He licks his lips, pulling her into him, tighter, afraid she’ll escape again, to the walls of a Circle, a trapped bird in a cage, “The Anderfels.”

His eyes glimmer at the idea, his hand rubbing her stomach absently. She does not know if he remembers, but one day he will.

“We _can’t.”_

“No, no,” he rubs his forehead absently, brows furrowed, “ _Past_ the Anderfels – the forest, or jungle –“

She tries to remember, from a geography book she might have read out of boredom once - “The Donarks.”

He smiles, and she is already dreaming of humid mornings and green afternoons, the sun spilling over them in pleasant waves. Her hand traces his chest, the beating heart underneath.

“Yes,” his voice is full of hope and she smiles with him.

“We can’t stay there forever,” she thinks of Hawke and the taint in his blood and everything in between that will pull them back to Circles and Templars and the Chantry. She feels the prick of tears well in the corners of her eyes, the exhaustion from the battle weighing over her, the cramps in her stomach.

Hesitantly he reaches for her face, his hand cupping her cheek, his lips brushing over hers. All of him, nothing else, and she feels electricity flowing through her veins.

“As long as we’re together,” and it’s a promise, his hand entwining with hers.

She feels tears prick her eyes again, thinks of small villages and easy lives. Of her youth. She will not have that, not in this life, but she has _him._

“Together,” and she knows it’s true.


End file.
